


Falling Rain

by castihellyea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Smut, Hurt Dean Winchester, Incest, M/M, No Spoilers, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Season 3/4, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Wincest - Freeform, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castihellyea/pseuds/castihellyea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean falls apart, can Sam put him back together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unraveled

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place season 3/4
> 
> This is only the first chapter, so it isn't NC17 yet, but this fic will become NC17 later on. 
> 
> Please leave a comment below telling me how you liked it ^.^

 

 

THEN

_“Dean, watch out for Sam. I’ll be back in a few days. There’s food in the fridge.” Those were the last words 7-year old Dean Winchester heard from his father before he left for another one of his “trips,” leaving Dean and Sam alone in some crappy motel room. But what his father didn’t know was that he didn’t need to tell Dean to look out for Sam. He really didn’t. Sam was Dean’s baby brother, and Dean would do anything, anything to protect him. Even at age 7. Ever since the tragic night of the fire, Dean became more of a father to Sam than John ever was, or ever would be. Sam needed changing, Dean was there. Sam was crying, Dean made sure to quiet him down before John got mad. It was just how things worked, and it always would work like that-as natural as the falling rain._

 

 

NOW

Dean woke up with a start. He was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. It was 22 years later, and he had been having nightmares again. They always ended the same way- Dean finally telling Sam what's been hurting him and Sam laughing at him, rejecting him. His worst nightmare, other than Sam dying, manifesting itself when he was at his most vulnerable.

Suddenly, a figure loomed over Dean’s bed. “Dean? You alright?” _Sammy._ 25-year old Sammy, not the crying 3-year old.

“Yeah, Sammy. Just another one of those dreams. You know how it is.” Dean sat up. The truth was, Sam didn’t know. Dean just told him he had nightmares about demons. He didn’t tell him he was forced to watch one of his worst nightmares come to life every night.

Sam frowned. “You sure, Dean? You look like you’re on the brink of death.”

“Sammy, I told you. I’m fine. Really. Just another demon dream.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Sam still had a look of complete concern on his face, but he dropped the matter nonetheless. “Cereal?”

“What?” Sam had already gotten up and moved over to the motel room's pathetic little kitchen.

“Cereal, Dean. Do you want cereal? You know, the breakfast food?” He shook the box of Lucky Charms for emphasis.

“Oh, yea. Sure Sammy, just give me a minute.” Dean got up and wandered over to the bathroom, shutting the door immediately. He moved so that his back was against the wall, and slid down so he was sitting on the cold tile floor. He put his head in his hands and let the tears flow freely, because God knows he would never let Sam see him cry. He bit down on a towel to keep the sobs from being released. He was being slowly tortured. Driven out of his mind. It hurt. And it was something Dean would never be able to admit it out loud, something he keeps tucked away and hidden inside him. Something he wanted, craved, _needed_ , more than anything, but could never have. It was almost in his grasp, but so out of reach at the same time that it was unbearable. The tears were flowing faster now, covering his cheeks with their salty tracks.

“Dean?” Dean’s head snapped up immediately, his hands trying desperately to wipe the tears away, but it was no use. Sam had already seen, and more were coming anyway. Shit. _Shit_.

He had forgotten to lock the door.


	2. A Thousand Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is following Chapter 1, "Unraveled," which you can read HERE------> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1122291

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments down below telling me what you think ^.^

 

 

 

 

 

THEN

_"Dean, we need to talk." John's voice sounded grim._

_"Okay. What's up?" 11-year old Dean, not quite sure what was going on, hoped that no family friends had died, or gotten injured on a hunt._

_"Look, Dean. This is about your brother. Sometimes we gotta do things for the ones we love. Hard things. To keep them safe." Dean immediately tensed up at the mention of Sammy. Like hell John knew about keeping Sammy safe._

_"Yea, I know that dad. You know I'd do anything for Sammy."_

_"I know, but it's more than that. Sometimes we need to lie. Especially in this world. In this life. Sam's gonna start asking questions soon. Questions about why I'm always gone, and if the monsters under the bed are real. I don't want him knowing any of that, so you need to come up with whatever lies you can think of to keep him in the dark. You understand?"_

_"Wait, but dad-"_

_"No buts Dean. I want to keep Sam hidden from everything out there in this world for as long as possible. _Give him as normal of a childhood as I can. And it's n_ ot even just the monsters and demons. Anything that you think will hurt Sammy or will not benefit him from knowing you'd better not tell him. Do you understand me?"_

_"But dad, he deserves to-"_

_"I said no buts Dean!"  John's voice rang out in the privacy of the motel room. Dean always got scared when his dad yelled at him. He was afraid he was going to start hitting him, like he always does after he gets back from hunts. And when John's rage got out of control, there was no stopping him. Dean already took extra beatings so he wouldn't touch Sammy._

_"O-okay dad. I'm sorry. Yes, I'll lie to Sammy." Dean's voice shook with fear._

_"Yes sir." John growled._

_Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes sir."_

 

 

 

 

 

  
_  
_NOW

_Shit._

_Shit._

_Shit._

That was all that was going through Dean's mind when he looked up and saw Sam looming over him, sadness and concern written all over his face. 

"Dean. What the hell? What's wrong?" Sam slid down onto the floor next to Dean, expecting an answer.

Dean wiped furiously at the tears covering his face. "Uh, nothin' Sammy. Just slipped and fell. Think I mighta sprained my ankle." Dean got up fast and faked a limp, hobbling over to his bed and sitting down on the edge. Of course, Sam didn't believe one word coming out of Dean's mouth. He knew his big brother too well. Better than anyone. Did Dean really think he could still lie to him like when they were kids? Sam just sighed and got up as well, walking over to sit next to Dean.

"Dean, I know you're lying. I know you better than I know myself. I can tell when you're just saying something to protect me."

Dean just stared. He had always thought he was a good liar. He thought he successfully kept Sam in the dark most of the time, especially when it came to Dean's "feelings." 

"So?" Sam was waiting for a response. "Out with it. Why were you really crying in there? You gotta tell me sooner or later, De. You never cry, so it must be something big."

Dean just looked down at the ground. There was no way he could ever tell him about his dreams. Sam would just feel guilty. And there was no way in _hell_ that Dean was going to admit to Sam that he-

Forget it. Not happening. He told himself a long time ago that as long as Sam didn't know, they'd be fine. Sam would be fine.

"I told you Sam. I tripped over the garbage can in the bathroom and fell. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but I'm better now. I swear." Dean gave Sam a reassuring smile, but at this point it might have come across as a grimace. 

Sam just sighed and got up to move over to the couch. "Whatever you say, big brother."

*******

Later that night, when Dean was asleep, Sam was still sprawled out on the couch, his mind working. He was trying to figure out why Dean had been crying in the bathroom that morning. Usually shit like this wouldn't bother him that much, but it was something about the way Dean was crying. He had never heard those sounds come out of his brother before, and it broke his heart. Dean wasn't just crying, he was full on _sobbing,_ choked cries and hoarse screams. Dean had to tried to muffle the sound by biting down on a towel, but it hadn't worked.  His big, strong, brother, the one he had always looked up to- _still_ looked up to- he had found lying on the bathroom floor in a puddle of tears. Sobs wracking his body, vulnerable to the world. It was unnerving. It had always been Dean wiping away Sam's tears when he fell, or had a broken heart. Now it was Sam's turn to do the same, if only Dean wasn't so damn proud all the time and refused to admit that he was actually _feeling_ something. It hurt Sam, knowing that his brother was so torn up about something and he couldn't help. And who knows, maybe if it had been another day Sam would have believed Dean's bullshit sprained ankle story. But there was something about the way Dean looked up at Sam when he first walked into that bathroom, those huge green eyes overflowing with tears. Behind all the shame and sadness in Dean's eyes, there was something else. Almost like a silent cry for help, but it was gone in an instant. He needed to do something. There was something very wrong with his brother, and he wouldn't just let him drown like this.

To confirm his suspicions that Dean was in fact lying about tripping, Sam got up and wandered over to the bathroom, poking his head in through the door. He was right. There wasn't a trash can in the bathroom at all. Only the kitchen. Sam sighed in frustration and plopped himself back down on the couch. He was thinking about how he was going to approach Dean when he heard a sound. It was like a muffled shout, or a cry. No.  _No._ No fucking way. Sam turned around slowly. Dean thought he had fallen asleep on the couch, and he'd rather keep it that way. Dean was curled up into a ball, his pillow covering his mouth. He was obviously awake- there was no mistaking those wide green eyes. At that moment, Sam's heart was torn in two. Dean thought he was asleep, so he thought it was okay to cry.  _What are you trying to hide that's so important you can't tell me?_ Sam felt so helpless, so weak. After what felt like hours, the sobs wracking Dean's body gradually turned into the steady sounds of breathing. He had fallen asleep. Sam cautiously got up and moved over to Dean's bed, so as not to wake him. He sat down next to him carefully, studying Dean's face, trying to make sense of the lying and the sobs that were wracking his body not even 5 minutes ago. "What are you hiding from me..." Sam breathed, barely a whisper. He took one thumb and wiped the leftover tears from Dean's cheeks. He ran a hand through Dean's hair- it had always calmed Dean, and while it's chances of working now are slim, it's more comforting for Sam at this point. Sam sighed, one single tear slipping down his own cheek. It hurt. It really hurt seeing his brother so torn up about something. Of course Dean didn't know that Sam was dealing with a few issues of his own. He could never tell Dean-ever, but still. Sam knows what it's like to have to hide something from a loved one. Something that fucking  _hurt,_ every damn day. But he had to keep on lying, keep up the act. He's done a good job of hiding it. It's not like he had a choice. But whatever. He just wished he could help Dean. He didn't want him to get stuck in the same place Sam's been stuck in for quite a while now. Another tear fell, and Sam decided it was time for him to go to bed. Before he got up he leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against Dean's forehead. He whispered something after he pulled away, something barely audible. 

_"If only you knew."_


	3. Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has another dream- but this time, it's not a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is so long, I kinda got carried away. Please leave a comment down below telling me what you think ^.^  
> 

 

 

THEN

_"Dean, wake up. You were mumbling in your sleep again." John Winchester's voice suddenly pierced through the veil of dreams Dean was having._

_"Ugh, dad." Dean sat up with a groan. "Why can't you fucking let me sleep for once?" John immediately got up from his bed and moved across the room to Dean's. He punched him twice across the face, hard enough to make Dean see stars and the world tilt off it's axis for just a few seconds._

_"Don't use that language in my house!" Dean bit back the urge to remind John that they were in a crappy motel room, but thought better of it. It would've just earned him more punches. John went on, "You're an eighteen-year old boy, Dean. There's no use in imagining things that are never going to happen. It just makes for broken hearts and crushed dreams." John wandered back over to his makeshift desk and started rifling through some old news stories for a case they've been working on._

_"But, dad I can't control my dreams-"_

_"I'm not telling you to! Just either keep them to yourself or don't have them at all. I don't need to hear about your secret fantasies. I've got enough on my mind." Dean paled at the words "secret fantasies," wondering if his dad knew-knew about what's been going on with him for the past year. John didn't notice the fleeting look of terror, so Dean played it off like nothing bothered him. He got up and immediately started applying concealer to the newly forming bruises on his jawline, wincing at the old ones on various other parts of his body. No way he could let Sammy see them. No way in hell. He couldn't know their dad hit him whenever Sam was out of sight._

_Pretending like the last few minutes never happened, Dean casually asked his dad, "Hey, where's Sammy?"_

_"Ran to the store down the street to get some food."_

_"Why the hell didn't you wake me up? Jesus, the kid's only 14, I would've gone with him."_

_"He's fine, Dean. You're just lucky he didn't hear the stuff you were mumbling in your sleep. You two do share a bed, I'm surprised he hasn't already." John was still casually rifling through the newspapers, not even glancing up once._

_Dean dropped the bottle he was holding, trying to think of a good explanation. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." he stammered._

_"Oh, don't lie to me, Dean. I know exactly what's going on with you." John sat back and put his hands behind his head. "You're in love with your little brother." He didn't seem angry, or even slightly annoyed. He seemed calm. Relaxed, even._

_"Uh, it's not what it, uh, I, uh-" Dean's heart was pounding in his ears. This was what he's been afraid of. All that work trying to hide how he felt and now, this. This is what he gets for feeling something. He was on the verge of tears. This was it for him. His dad was going to call him a freak, unnatural. Then he'd be tossed onto the street to fend for himself. And Sammy would be left alone._

_With their dad. "Dad, its, uh.. It's not what you think." Even though that was a complete and utter lie, it was worth a shot._

_"Come on, Dean. You don't think I hear you? You sleep talk, Dean. And anyways, you don't need to explain yourself. It doesn't bother me."_

_"What?" Dean was stunned. Out of all the things he expected to come out of his father's mouth, that was not one of them._

_"Really. It doesn't bother me. You love who you love, and all that shit. " John casually leaned forward and went back to his papers. "It doesn't concern me. Just keep me out of it." And that was it. They never discussed it again, _it w_ _as never once mentioned. Dean tried harder than ever not to sleep talk from that day on, with a promise from John that whenever he did he'd be woken up.__

 

 

  
_  
_NOW

Dean was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. He didn't know how he knew, but he just knew. If that made any sense. It was different from his usual dreams, in the fact that it wasn't a nightmare. He was standing in the middle of a dirt road, with nothing but trees around him for miles. He was standing there for what seemed like hours when a shape began to emerge from the treeline. "Who's there? Show yourself!" By instinct, Dean reached for his gun, only to find that it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't.

This was just a dream. 

"I said, who's there?" Dean repeated, this time louder. 

"Dean, it's okay. It's me." The person said softly. Their face was concealed by the shadow of the trees, but Dean recognized the voice. He hadn't heard it in years, but hed recognize it from a mile away.

"Dad!" Dean began running towards the direction of his father, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier. "What the hell-"

"Dean." John Winchester looked the same as he did when he died. "You can't get past that barrier. So just listen. I know your feelings for you brother have been tearing you up." Dean turned scarlet. "Don't even try to deny it, Dean you're my son. I spent four years with you,  _alone,_ after Sam left for Stanford. You almost killed yourself then, and now it's just you, Sam, and unrequited love to fill the space of countless motel rooms." Dean only remembered bits and pieces of the years following when Sam left. He was so drunk all the time, trying to drink away the pain, the betrayal. That hurt almost as much as he was hurting now. Almost. When Sam came back, the feelings Dean had for him came back with him in full force. And all they've been doing is getting stronger. "Dean, listen to me. It's been a few years already since Sam came back. I know you're hurting worse and worse every day, and-"

"Who are you? Are you a demon? Because if you are, I can tell you, with the most sincerity, to fuck off."

"No, Dean. This is really me. I got in good with a demon, a powerful one-Barbatos-he's helping me communicate with you, and we don't have much time. So  _please,_ Dean. Listen to me." John had a pleading look in his eyes.

"Fine. I still don't trust you, but go on."

"Thank you." John-Barbatos-whoever he was- breathed. "Dean it kills me to see you hurt like this. Crying every day, trying so hard to hide your feelings from Sam. Dean, this has been going on for _years._ Ever since Sam came back from Stanford. Not to mention the years before he went to Stanford, but I'm talking about the crying, and the praying. Sure, I figured it out when you were eighteen, Dean, but ever since Sammy came back it's gotten so much worse. I really think you should just-" 

"Just what? Leave? Leave behind a note telling Sam I needed to go off on my own to sort things out? Because yea I know, that would be the best thing to protect Sammy. Dad, I've thought about everything.  _Everything._ And I know, I've had those feelings for him since I was seventeen but, but-" Dean was trying to think of how to word this. "There was just something about seeing him for the first time in four years that just made it all hurt so much worse. And now it's been three more since he came back and I don't know how much longer I can hold on dad. It  _hurts._ I need to get away from him. Yea, that'll hurt like a son of a bitch too, just like when he left, but hopefully I'll be in too much of a drunken haze to feel any of it. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll even drink myself to death."

"No, Dean, that's not what I meant. That's not what I meant at all." Dean faltered. 

"Then what in the hell-"

"I think you should tell him, Dean."

Dean laughed. He laughed for what felt like hours, and when he finally came back, he said, "Yea, ok. You're crazy. Might as well tell him to fuck me while I'm at it."

"I'm not kidding, Dean. This has been killing you since you were seventeen, and I can tell it's hurting Sam, too."

"Sam? No. Don't bring him into this. Don't you dare. These are my messed-up feelings, not his."

"No, but maybe if you just asked, he might have a secret or two of his own to share." John began stepping backwards into the shadow of the trees.

"Wait! What do you mean? Sam doesn't keep secrets from me! And what would he be keeping, anyways?"

John stepped all the way back into the forest. He yelled out one more cryptic message before being completely concealed by the leaves. "It's time to stop living in your dreams, Dean." And with that, Dean was left with a slight breeze, his thoughts, and the rustle of leaves in the distance.


	4. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean falls apart again-
> 
> But this time it's different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, VERY sad and angsty chapter. Pure angst. I promise things will look up- eventually. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave a comment down below telling me what you think of this so far ^.^ without comments I won't know whether I should continue this or not, so.... Yea.

 

 

 

 

 

THEN

_"Sammy, I'm home!" 19-year old Dean was finally back from a hunt. Dad had gone off to god-knows where with a friend, and told Dean to go back home and take care of Sammy. Typical. Not that he minded, he loved Sam more than anything. It just pissed him off that John was still technically Sam's "father" even though he didn't do a damn thing._

_"Sammy! Where are you, little brother?" Dean called out again. He trudged up the stairs of the current house they were staying in, walking down the long hallway to Sam's room. He heard the top 20 pop shit Sam liked to listen to blaring out from his room. Damn, he really needed to introduce the kid to Led Zeppelin. "Sammy!" Dean pushed open the door to Sam's room. He was doing homework on his bed. Of course. Dean shut off the radio, startling Sam so much he toppled out of bed._

_"Damn, Sammy, what if I had been a murderer?" Sam was gasping, trying to catch his breath._

_"Well.. I... Don't think..... A murderer... Would have...a key."_

_"Oh, Sammy. Even a smart ass when you're lying face down on the floor. Get up, little brother. Gimme a hug." There was silence for a few seconds._

_"No."_

_"What?"_

_"Uh... No. I gotta go to the bathroom." Dean had never seen Sam move that fast. He hopped up like a spider and booked it to the bathroom so fast you'd think he was a crack whore being chased by a horny cop._

_Too bad Dean was faster. He wedged his foot in between the door and the doorframe before Sammy could shut it._

_"Nice try, little brother, but you can't get away from me that easily." Sam's stupid hair was like a mop covering his face. It didn't occur to Dean until later that maybe that night Sam had put his bangs in his face on purpose. "What're you trying to hide." Dean mumbled. He went to brush Sam's bangs off his face, but Sam slapped his hand away and drew his face back. "Sam. Let me see your face." Dean's voice softened. "Now." Reluctantly, Sam pushed his hair back, a pained expression on his face._

_Dean sucked in a breath. There were purple and green bruises running along the length of Sam's jawline and cheekbone, and the right side of his forehead. He had a massively swollen black eye, so swollen you couldn't see his actual eye._

_"Who did this to you." Deans voice was deadly quiet._

_"No, Dean- it was my fault- it was my fault, I promise-" Dean wrapped his hands in Sam's shirt and slammed him back against the wall._

_"I'm gonna ask you again, Sammy. Who did this to you?" His voice was rising now, along with his panic level. Someone had touched Sammy. His Sammy. They'd laid their hands on him and hurt him and Dean hadn't even been there to protect him. What kind of a big brother was he?_

_"It-it was my fault, Dean, I- I provoked him." Dean pushed Sam farther back against the wall._

_"Sam. Tell me. I swear to god, you'd better tell me. Now."_

_"Brian." Sam whimpered. "Brian Adams."_

_"The prick who fucked your prom date last year?"_

_"Please, Dean, don't do anything that'll get you arrested. Please, I'm begging you."_

_"Like hell. I'm gonna fucking kill the bastard. " Dean let go of Sam and started walking towards the door, hoping to God that Sam wasn't going to use the puppy dog face against him._

_"Dean." Dean felt a hand on his elbow, pulling him back. Reluctantly, he looked at his little brothers face._

_Shit._

_He was using puppy dog face #27._

_He was done for._

_"Dean, please. Stay with me. I need you right now. I need you." Dean softened. How in the hell was he supposed to say no to THAT? I mean sure, he was gonna kick Brian's ass later, but for now-it wouldn't hurt to take care of his little brother. The one thing he knows he's good at._

 

 

 

 

NOW

Sam's eyes snapped open. He smelled something. Something he hadn't smelled since he was a kid.

Someone was frying bacon.

He sat up and blinked away his bleary eyes, groggily looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 7:34. Jesus. What in the hell-

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Sam groaned and rubbed at his face.

"Jesus, Dean, it's 7:30. What the hell are you doing up?"

"Thought I'd make us breakfast, Sammy. You know. A good, wholesome, Winchester family breakfast." Dean smiled his goofy smile- the one he always used when he was hiding something- or felt guilty.

Sam sighed. "Look, dean-"

"No, Sam." Deans voice got deadly quiet in two seconds flat. "I don't want to talk about it. Not right now. Chick flick moments aren't gonna change anything."

"But man, come on- we need to talk about this sooner or later."

"No. I told you I'm not ready to talk about it yet. And no offense, Sammy, but I probably won't even tell you when I am. You know I'm not a big fan of caring and sharing." Dean was serious. Sam could tell, and he wasn't gonna kill the good mood. At least not yet.

Sam sighed again. "Fine, Dean."

"Good." The goofy smile came back again. "Then let's eat." Dean walked over to Sam's bed carrying a tray of orange juice, bacon, and eggs. He nudged Sam over with his hip and plopped down next to him. Sam laughed.

"Uh, personal space much, dean?"

"Ah, but our days are numbered, little brother." Dean slung his right arm around Sam's shoulder, looked at him, and grinned. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Whatever you say, Dean." Sam smiled to himself. Even if it's as all an act, this was how he wanted to see his brother. Content for the moment, he bit into the bacon, surprised to see that it was actually good. "Been taking cooking lessons, Dean?" Sam asked once they were finished. "Some pretty damn good bacon." Dean got up and began carrying the tray to the kitchen.

"Food network, bitch." Sam just laughed. He was happy, for now. He tried to forget the inevitable conversation coming. He needed to get Dean to tell him about last night. And he would. He always did-eventually.

"Hey Sammy! I cooked! Now come clean." Sam got up with a groan and walked into the crappy kitchen. He began washing the dishes and noticed that Dean was leaning up against the doorframe, watching him, a small smile on his face.

"What is it with you today, Dean?" Sam said with slight concern in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, man, you're just-really happy. It's kinda freaking me out."

"I'm fine, Sammy. I just- I had a good dream last night, that's all." Sam finished washing the plates and dried off his hands. He walked over to Dean, put his hands on his shoulders, and pushed him back against the wall.

"Dean, you need to talk to me. Tell me what's going on. I'm your little brother. Don't you trust me?" Dean was silent. "I know you better than anyone, Dean, and I know when you're overcompensating." Dean's jaw clenched. Sam was near shouting now. "You know I walked in on you in that bathroom yesterday, and I know you didn't twist your fucking ankle."

"Sam, please, stop." Dean whispered. Sam was too far gone to care.

"I heard you crying last night when you thought I was asleep. I know something's killing you inside, Dean, and you're not telling me what it is and it fucking hurts because I'm here for you and you know I'm here for you and I've always been here for you and you fucking refuse to see that and-"

Sam was cut off abruptly by a sound that Dean made.

He whimpered.

He fucking whimpered. Dean. Of all people. That's the moment when Sam realized just how broken his brother really was. He calmed down and let go of Dean's shoulders, just for Dean to grab him and wrap him in a hug, burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck. Sam could feel hot tears through the fabric of his shirt, could feel his big brother's shoulders shaking as sobs wracked his body. Here was his Dean-his big brother, his rock, his other half, the one that never broke, the one that would rather die than admit his true feelings to _anyone_ -sobbing in Sam's arms. It broke Sam's heart. He walked backwards and moved them to the bed without ever letting go of Dean. He laid down on his back with Dean next to him, curled up, one arm slung over Sam's stomach, his head still in the crook of Sam's neck. Sam whispered things in Dean's ear, trying to calm him down, trying to do something-anything-to put his big brother back together again. Sam had one hand cradling the back of Dean's head, the other rubbing small circles on his back. He was repeating the same mantra in Dean's ear over and over, praying to god that it would do something.

"Shh, Dean, I'm here. Sammy's here. You're safe. You're not alone, Dean, I got you. I got you. Shh, everything's gonna be alright." Sam could feel hot tears pouring down his cheeks. He didn't know if it was true. This was wrong-wrong, wrong, wrong. It was supposed to be Dean comforting Sam all the time, not the other way around. This was never supposed to happen. Dean was never supposed to break. 

But he did.


	5. I Feel Like A Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, no summary needed, really. Pure schmoop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) this is a really cute schmoopy chapter, actually. i figured after all the angst of the past 4 and last weeks episode, you guys deserved it. so yea. enjoy. and BY THE WAY this is not the end of this fic even if it may seem like it. it's gonna go on for at least 5 more chapters. yea. so, i reiterate. enjoy ^.^ xx
> 
> ps~can you guys please leave comments? i really need feedback ok idk what you guys think so pleasee- comment, comment, comment. 
> 
> thank you ! bye xx

 

 

 

 

 

THEN

_"Dean? Dean, are you awake?" Dean cracked his eyes open and looked around for the source of the voice._ _Crouched next to Dean's crappy motel bed peering up at him was 15-year old Sammy. Dean sat up and yawned._

_"Yea, Sammy. now I am." he rubbed groggily at his eyes. "What time is it?"_

_"It's 2:30."  Dean nearly fell out of his bed._

_"In the morning? What the hell, Sam? What do you need, is dad back early?"_

_"No, he's still gone. I talked to him a few hours ago. He'll be gone for another two days." Sam was talking oddly softly. It was creeping Dean out. He flopped back down onto his pillow, facing Sam, and groaned._

_"Okay, if dad's not back early then what the hell did you wake me up for? This has better be fucking important, Sam." Dean was studying the kid's face. Sam was nervous. Dean could tell, because whenever he was nervous he bit the inside of his cheek and looked slightly to the left. Dean thought it was fucking adorable, but he couldn't afford to think like that. Not now._

_Sam hesitated before speaking, like he wasn't quite sure how to word whatever he was trying to say._

_"Come on, spit it out Sam. I wanna go back to bed."_

_"Alright." Sam took a deep breath. "Alright. So, I had this dream." He stopped like he was expecting Dean to just get it._

_"Okay. Care to elaborate?"_

_"I-I don't-it was a nightmare." Sam looked uncomfortable._

_"Sam, you've had had plenty of nightmares before. Man, we literally face nightmares every day. Don't be such a wuss." Dean turned around to face the wall. This was ridiculous. Sam was just trying to mess with him and it pissed him off. "Go back to sleep, Sam."_

_Dean heard Sam stand up and move over to his bed. Good, the kid was going back to sleep. Or so he thought. Suddenly he heard Sam wander back over to Dean's bed a put something on the floor next to it. Then the room went silent._

_"Uh...Sammy...What are you-what in the hell?" Dean had rolled over to see what Sam had put next to his bed just to find the kid himself curled up on the floor._

_"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" Sam looked up. Dean could see that Sam's eyes, those big, beautiful eyes were filled to the brim with tears. He didn't know what was wrong with Sam, but he didn't cry for nothing. It had to be serious, and Dean was obliged to carry out his big-brotherly duties._

_"C'mere." Sam looked up. "C'mere, Sammy. C'mon, before I change my mind." Dean patted the comforter next to him. Sam immediately threw himself down next to Dean and wrapped his arms around him. Damn it, the kid was 15 and already almost taller than him. Dean stroked his hair and whispered a choked off litany in Sam's ear. He hated to see him hurt like this. "I got you, Sammy. Shh, you're okay. I'm not going anywhere, little brother. You're okay, baby. You're okay." Dean mentally slapped himself. He wasn't sure Sam heard it, but he just called Sam fucking BABY. Not baby brother-baby. He was screwed. He leaned back so they were laying down on their sides, Sam wrapped in Dean's arms, his face buried in his neck. So what if it was a twin bed?_

_Dean continued stroking his hair and _pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead. Sam was still crying. Damn, it must have been bad- Sam didn't scare easily. What Sam said next came out as barely a whisper, but Dean caught every word.__

_"I had to watch you die. I had to watch you be tortured and die at least a hundred times and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to watch you scream for help, scream my name, and I couldn't do anything. I-I tried-I tried so hard." More tears spilled down Sam's cheeks. "I just had to be near you. I had to know-" Sam choked up._

_That broke Dean. He held his little brother painfully closer, tears threatening to spill out of his own eyes. He knew how those dreams felt, and they sucked. There was nothing worse than watching the one person you loved most in the world die. Repeatedly._

_He pressed a light kiss to Sam's cheek. There was a 97% chance Sam wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. He never did, on the days that it happened. Dean just kept on whispering things in Sam's ear, calming him down. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry, I didn't know. You're okay now. Look around, we're in a crappy motel room, just you and me-nobody's gonna hurt me, okay? I got you, baby brother. You're safe. You're safe, baby. You're safe." Dean tipped Sam's head up and looked into his eyes. Hey, if the kid wasn't gonna remember shit in the morning, why not? Dean pressed his lips to Sam's. It was a short kiss, and a soft one, but Sam sighed deeply into it and nuzzled even closer after it was over. Dean convinced himself that Sam didn't object only because he was half asleep. That was it. That had to be it. Sam didn't have the same fucked-up feelings that he did. He couldn't._

_Dean convinced himself to stop overthinking things and fell asleep. Sam was wrapped in his arms, his face buried in Dean's shirt. This had happened a few times in the past year, and they never talked about it after. The kissing had never happened before, but sleeping in the same bed- yeah. Honestly, it didn't feel weird, or wrong. It felt right._

 

 

 

 

 

NOW 

They fell asleep like that. In each other's arms. It was a queen-sized bed, so there was plenty of room for the both of them, but that didn't matter. Sam held Dean all night, all the way through until morning. Dean clung to Sam all night like he was a life force, not letting go, not once. His face stayed either in the hollow of Sam's neck or his chest. It had gotten so hot in the room that Sam had removed their shirts sometime during the night, with no objection from Dean. The feeling of Dean's skin hot against his, _pressed_ against his, all night, was-beautiful.

Sam woke up in the night some time around 2:30. He was laying on his right side and Dean was laying on his left, their bare chests pressed against each other. Dean's face was buried in Sam's neck and one of his arms was wrapped around him, the other hand pressed to his chest, right where his heart was. Sam didn't try to sit up in fear of waking him, so he just laid there for a while, thinking. He was happy. He knew he was going to have hell to pay when Dean woke up and realized that they had been  _cuddling_ all night, but for now- he didn't care. And of course, now Sam knew what Dean's been hiding. Now he just needs to get Dean to say it. He needs him to say it. 

Sam was broken out of his reverie by a sound that Dean made. It was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. He pulled away a little bit to look at his big brother's face. 

"Dean? Hey, you up?" Dean grunted and opened his eyes a little bit. 

"I been up, Sammy. Just comfortable." Dean sat up and rubbed at his eyes. "What time 'sit?" Sam didn't move, just looked at his watch. 

"2:30."

Dean groaned. "Jesus fucking Christ, too damn early." He laid down and nuzzled his way back into Sam's neck, throwing his arm back around his little brother and pulling him close. Sam laughed lightly.

"You comfortable there, Dean?"

"Oh, shut up you son of a bitch. Save it 'til morning. Then we'll talk. For now, I'm going back to sleep." Sam smiled and pressed his lips to Dean's forehead.

"Night, De." 

"Ugh, I'm gonna throw up."

"Hey, remember, you're the one fucking  _nuzzling_ my neck and holding me. So I wouldn't talk if I were you."

"Hey, you're holding me too!"

They were silent for a second. Then, all of a sudden, as all arguments ended in true Winchester fashion-

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Go to sleep, Dean."

"Fine!" All Dean did was snuggle closer and hold Sam tighter until his breathing evened out and his grip loosened. Sam pulled away a little and looked at the older boy's face. His long eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. He was like a bullet. Small, fragile, and delicate in so many ways that only Sam got to see, but deadly as soon as he needed to be. He was beautiful. Sam placed a soft kiss on Dean's forehead, then his temple, then his cheek.

He then pressed his forehead to Dean's and fell asleep, faster than the shot of a gun. 


End file.
